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  • 7 months later...

OPINION

How Gay Men Saved Us From Mpox
April 16, 2023
The New York Times 

By Ina Park and Dan Savage

Dr. Park is a professor of family and community medicine at the University of California, San Francisco. Mr. Savage is an author.


For weeks, the same awkward scene played out again and again in sexually transmitted infection clinics across the United States. Half-naked gay men stood with their pants around their ankles while clinicians crouched between their legs, swabs at the ready. The clinicians were covered head-to-toe in hazmat chic: gowns, gloves, face shields and N95 respirators. The men were covered in something much worse: painful lesions, on their genitals, their anuses and sometimes even their faces and limbs.

It was July of 2022, just last summer, and an outbreak of mpox — formerly known as monkeypox — was in full swing. From a handful of cases in a few cities in early May, the outbreak surged to more than 16,000 cases in 75 countries and territories just two months later. It was terrifying.

The sudden appearance of so many mpox cases everywhere and all at once was shocking. Aside from an occasional case among travelers from countries in West or Central Africa, where the virus is endemic, mpox was extremely rare in Europe or North America. The United States had seen only one outbreak, back in 2003, among Midwesterners with pet prairie dogs that had been housed with infected African rodents. There were 47 cases then and no documented cases of human-to-human transmission.

This time was different. In early May of 2022, mpox found its way to gay raves in Spain and Belgium, huge annual parties that draw men from all over the world. Clothing was scant, grinding was plentiful and when the parties were over everyone flew home. Within weeks, mpox cases — resulting from human-to-human transmission — began cropping up in cities worldwide.

While the outbreak caught the public unaware, public health officials had been warned. Five years earlier, Dr. Dimie Ogoina had observed unusual cases in Nigeria, first in an 11-year-old boy and then among young men who’d reported multiple sex partners or encounters with sex workers. He soon realized that this was not “the regular monkeypox we know” and tried to alert the scientific community about the possibility of sexual transmission.

And just as we were grappling with proof that Dr. Ogoina was right about everything — right that something had changed, right that mpox was transmitted sexually and right to raise the alarm — testing revealed that the mpox virus could survive on linens or clothing for more than two weeks. While we were both primarily concerned for those already suffering from mpox and those at highest risk of contracting the virus, we feared what might happen if mpox made its way into hotel rooms and onto cruise ships and college campuses. (Think of all those frat house couches that are rarely cleaned.) This outbreak could become an epidemic, perhaps even a pandemic.

Luckily, we were wrong.

While mpox could live on surfaces, it turned out it didn’t spread that way. The virus required close, sustained contact to spread, which is why it was fanning out overwhelmingly through sex. So this outbreak that started in gay and bisexual communities mostly stayed in those communities, but not for long. On Jan. 31, 2023, the federal government declared an end to the mpox emergency, as average case counts fell from a peak of over 450 per day in early August to fewer than five during the last week of January. While the outbreak in the United States lasted just under nine months, it caused plenty of damage, resulting in more than 30,000 cases and 42 deaths.

While the outbreak ended faster than many believed it would, it was far worse than it needed to be, representing both a public health triumph and a public health failure. Both health officials and the media failed to expeditiously warn and engage the gay community in the outbreak’s crucial first weeks.

When the first cases were reported among gay and bisexual men in the West, health authorities and the media couldn’t bring themselves to say the word “gay.” To avoid stigmatizing gay and bisexual men, early reports buried the lead. The Associated Press didn’t mention that this outbreak was being seen almost exclusively in gay men until 15 paragraphs into one report; other reports didn’t mention gay and bisexual men at all. A gay man scanning headlines in May of last year might have learned of an outbreak — but unless he had traveled to West Africa recently, or had contact with infected rodents or primates, he could have easily concluded that he wasn’t at risk.

While this desire to avoid stigmatizing gay and bisexual men was understandable, it wasn’t helpful. We know gay sex has been unfairly blamed for everything from natural disasters to the fall of Rome. But in their efforts to avoid stigmatizing the community, health authorities and the media failed to effectively warn gay and bisexual men. Ignorant of the threat as the virus spread, gay and bisexual men couldn’t take steps to protect themselves and their partners.

Unfortunately, stigma and discrimination found the community anyway. Gay men with mpox were turned away from urgent care clinics and emergency rooms. Phlebotomists refused to draw their blood. Like its predecessors Covid-19 and H.I.V./AIDS, mpox had all the makings of a public health disaster. It took nearly two months into the outbreak for testing to become widely available. A dearth of vaccines created “Hunger Games”-like scenarios in cities throughout the country, with vaccine clinics opening and then shutting their doors for lack of supply. Cases began to appear in a small handful of transgender people and cisgender women and children, raising alarm about wider spread.

Even after it was evident that this painful, potentially disfiguring or even fatal infection was spreading through gay men’s sexual networks, public health officials and the media were hesitant to give the same advice they had given freely at the beginning of the Covid pandemic: Limit your number of sex partners and express your sexuality in socially distanced ways.

But while health officials and journalists hesitated, gay and bisexual men sprang into action. Young men with lesions covering their faces took to social and mainstream media, telling the public that they were dealing with “the worst pain I’ve experienced in my life” and, perhaps the most telling, “I’d rather have Covid.” Benjamin Ryan, a gay journalist, and Carlton Thomas, a gay doctor, risked cancellation — e.g., being yelled at on Twitter — to dish out what Dr. Thomas referred to as “tough love” advice for their community: Slam the brakes on sex outside of committed relationships; seek immediate medical care for symptoms; and get vaccinated as soon as possible.

And the gay community listened.

Gay party promoters canceled long-planned events and individual gay men temporarily deleted hookup apps from their phones and reduced their sexual contacts. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention verified these shifts in behavior, reporting that half of gay men surveyed reduced their number of sex partners, one-time sexual encounters and use of dating apps during the outbreak. And gay and bisexual men got vaccinated in droves; two-thirds of those surveyed by the Pew Research Center in September 2022 reported that they had already received an mpox vaccine or were planning to do so. Gay and bisexual men endured frustrating attempts to secure appointments for the crucial first dose of the two-dose series and hourslong waits at pop-up vaccination sites. Of the over one million doses of the Jynneos vaccine (protective against smallpox and mpox) administered in the United States since June 2022, more than 90 percent were given to men (presumably gay and bisexual men).

Communications teams at the C.D.C. made great strides during this time. They acknowledged the realities of gay sexuality and its breadth of expression, using the actual language gay men use when discussing sex with each other. The words “fetish gear” appeared on a C.D.C. website for the first time; the clinical term “anus” became the more user-friendly “butthole,” and instead of “public sex environments,” the C.D.C. spoke frankly about “back rooms” and “sex parties” and the risk of contracting mpox in those spaces.

While those warning gay men to cut back on sex until they were vaccinated against mpox experienced accusations of fomenting stigma — echoing pushback experienced by gay men who urged others to avoid bathhouses and start using condoms at the start of the AIDS crisis in the early 1980s — efforts to shoot the messenger were less aggressive than in years past. One key difference between H.I.V./AIDS and mpox: Many of the messengers were gay and bisexual men themselves, including gay journalists, doctors and average citizens with access to social media, plus a generation of gay men who had been inspired to pursue public health careers in the wake of AIDS.

The C.D.C.’s chosen spokesman to lead national conversations on mpox and gay men’s sexual health wasn’t a straight doctor in a lab coat who squirmed at the mention of gay sex. Instead, it was Dr. Demetre Daskalakis, an out gay man who not only attends raves but posts shirtless selfies on social media to prove it. This was a messenger the community would listen to.

Gay and bisexual men had already written the playbook on activism and advocacy throughout the H.I.V./AIDS epidemic, resulting in more than $7 billion in federal funding for H.I.V. research, prevention, treatment and social services. Furious over the federal government’s initial response to mpox, they mobilized and organized, protesting at local Department of Health and Human Services offices and filing a complaint with the Massachusetts state attorney general over denial of mpox testing and treatment.

So while an early and frankly honest public health response could have blunted the outbreak, resulting in far fewer cases and far less suffering, the swift collective action of gay and bisexual men prevented catastrophe. If the broader American public had responded to the threat of Covid-19 the way gay and bisexual men responded to the threat of mpox, we might have seen fewer cases (there have been 100 million to date) and a lower death toll (1.1 million and counting). When the next infectious outbreak strikes (and surely it will), the public would be wise to channel gay and bisexual men: communicate openly without stigmatization, organize and insist on access to effective prevention, diagnosis and treatment.

There’s another important lesson about the gay community that health officials and journalists need to remember going forward: When it comes to emerging health threats — even ones that can spread sexually — gay men can handle the truth. You can give it to them straight.

Ina Park (@InaParkMD) is a professor of family and community medicine at the University of California, San Francisco, and the author of “Strange Bedfellows: Adventures in the Science, History and Surprising Secrets of S.T.D.s.” Dan Savage has been writing “Savage Love,” one of the most widely read sex advice columns in the country, for more than 30 years and is also the host of “Savage Lovecast.”

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  • 3 weeks later...
On 4/19/2023 at 6:44 PM, 56harrisond said:

OPINION

How Gay Men Saved Us From Mpox
April 16, 2023
The New York Times 

By Ina Park and Dan Savage

Dr. Park is a professor of family and community medicine at the University of California, San Francisco. Mr. Savage is an author.


For weeks, the same awkward scene played out again and again in sexually transmitted infection clinics across the United States. Half-naked gay men stood with their pants around their ankles while clinicians crouched between their legs, swabs at the ready. The clinicians were covered head-to-toe in hazmat chic: gowns, gloves, face shields and N95 respirators. The men were covered in something much worse: painful lesions, on their genitals, their anuses and sometimes even their faces and limbs.

It was July of 2022, just last summer, and an outbreak of mpox — formerly known as monkeypox — was in full swing. From a handful of cases in a few cities in early May, the outbreak surged to more than 16,000 cases in 75 countries and territories just two months later. It was terrifying.

The sudden appearance of so many mpox cases everywhere and all at once was shocking. Aside from an occasional case among travelers from countries in West or Central Africa, where the virus is endemic, mpox was extremely rare in Europe or North America. The United States had seen only one outbreak, back in 2003, among Midwesterners with pet prairie dogs that had been housed with infected African rodents. There were 47 cases then and no documented cases of human-to-human transmission.

This time was different. In early May of 2022, mpox found its way to gay raves in Spain and Belgium, huge annual parties that draw men from all over the world. Clothing was scant, grinding was plentiful and when the parties were over everyone flew home. Within weeks, mpox cases — resulting from human-to-human transmission — began cropping up in cities worldwide.

While the outbreak caught the public unaware, public health officials had been warned. Five years earlier, Dr. Dimie Ogoina had observed unusual cases in Nigeria, first in an 11-year-old boy and then among young men who’d reported multiple sex partners or encounters with sex workers. He soon realized that this was not “the regular monkeypox we know” and tried to alert the scientific community about the possibility of sexual transmission.

And just as we were grappling with proof that Dr. Ogoina was right about everything — right that something had changed, right that mpox was transmitted sexually and right to raise the alarm — testing revealed that the mpox virus could survive on linens or clothing for more than two weeks. While we were both primarily concerned for those already suffering from mpox and those at highest risk of contracting the virus, we feared what might happen if mpox made its way into hotel rooms and onto cruise ships and college campuses. (Think of all those frat house couches that are rarely cleaned.) This outbreak could become an epidemic, perhaps even a pandemic.

Luckily, we were wrong.

While mpox could live on surfaces, it turned out it didn’t spread that way. The virus required close, sustained contact to spread, which is why it was fanning out overwhelmingly through sex. So this outbreak that started in gay and bisexual communities mostly stayed in those communities, but not for long. On Jan. 31, 2023, the federal government declared an end to the mpox emergency, as average case counts fell from a peak of over 450 per day in early August to fewer than five during the last week of January. While the outbreak in the United States lasted just under nine months, it caused plenty of damage, resulting in more than 30,000 cases and 42 deaths.

While the outbreak ended faster than many believed it would, it was far worse than it needed to be, representing both a public health triumph and a public health failure. Both health officials and the media failed to expeditiously warn and engage the gay community in the outbreak’s crucial first weeks.

When the first cases were reported among gay and bisexual men in the West, health authorities and the media couldn’t bring themselves to say the word “gay.” To avoid stigmatizing gay and bisexual men, early reports buried the lead. The Associated Press didn’t mention that this outbreak was being seen almost exclusively in gay men until 15 paragraphs into one report; other reports didn’t mention gay and bisexual men at all. A gay man scanning headlines in May of last year might have learned of an outbreak — but unless he had traveled to West Africa recently, or had contact with infected rodents or primates, he could have easily concluded that he wasn’t at risk.

While this desire to avoid stigmatizing gay and bisexual men was understandable, it wasn’t helpful. We know gay sex has been unfairly blamed for everything from natural disasters to the fall of Rome. But in their efforts to avoid stigmatizing the community, health authorities and the media failed to effectively warn gay and bisexual men. Ignorant of the threat as the virus spread, gay and bisexual men couldn’t take steps to protect themselves and their partners.

Unfortunately, stigma and discrimination found the community anyway. Gay men with mpox were turned away from urgent care clinics and emergency rooms. Phlebotomists refused to draw their blood. Like its predecessors Covid-19 and H.I.V./AIDS, mpox had all the makings of a public health disaster. It took nearly two months into the outbreak for testing to become widely available. A dearth of vaccines created “Hunger Games”-like scenarios in cities throughout the country, with vaccine clinics opening and then shutting their doors for lack of supply. Cases began to appear in a small handful of transgender people and cisgender women and children, raising alarm about wider spread.

Even after it was evident that this painful, potentially disfiguring or even fatal infection was spreading through gay men’s sexual networks, public health officials and the media were hesitant to give the same advice they had given freely at the beginning of the Covid pandemic: Limit your number of sex partners and express your sexuality in socially distanced ways.

But while health officials and journalists hesitated, gay and bisexual men sprang into action. Young men with lesions covering their faces took to social and mainstream media, telling the public that they were dealing with “the worst pain I’ve experienced in my life” and, perhaps the most telling, “I’d rather have Covid.” Benjamin Ryan, a gay journalist, and Carlton Thomas, a gay doctor, risked cancellation — e.g., being yelled at on Twitter — to dish out what Dr. Thomas referred to as “tough love” advice for their community: Slam the brakes on sex outside of committed relationships; seek immediate medical care for symptoms; and get vaccinated as soon as possible.

And the gay community listened.

Gay party promoters canceled long-planned events and individual gay men temporarily deleted hookup apps from their phones and reduced their sexual contacts. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention verified these shifts in behavior, reporting that half of gay men surveyed reduced their number of sex partners, one-time sexual encounters and use of dating apps during the outbreak. And gay and bisexual men got vaccinated in droves; two-thirds of those surveyed by the Pew Research Center in September 2022 reported that they had already received an mpox vaccine or were planning to do so. Gay and bisexual men endured frustrating attempts to secure appointments for the crucial first dose of the two-dose series and hourslong waits at pop-up vaccination sites. Of the over one million doses of the Jynneos vaccine (protective against smallpox and mpox) administered in the United States since June 2022, more than 90 percent were given to men (presumably gay and bisexual men).

Communications teams at the C.D.C. made great strides during this time. They acknowledged the realities of gay sexuality and its breadth of expression, using the actual language gay men use when discussing sex with each other. The words “fetish gear” appeared on a C.D.C. website for the first time; the clinical term “anus” became the more user-friendly “butthole,” and instead of “public sex environments,” the C.D.C. spoke frankly about “back rooms” and “sex parties” and the risk of contracting mpox in those spaces.

While those warning gay men to cut back on sex until they were vaccinated against mpox experienced accusations of fomenting stigma — echoing pushback experienced by gay men who urged others to avoid bathhouses and start using condoms at the start of the AIDS crisis in the early 1980s — efforts to shoot the messenger were less aggressive than in years past. One key difference between H.I.V./AIDS and mpox: Many of the messengers were gay and bisexual men themselves, including gay journalists, doctors and average citizens with access to social media, plus a generation of gay men who had been inspired to pursue public health careers in the wake of AIDS.

The C.D.C.’s chosen spokesman to lead national conversations on mpox and gay men’s sexual health wasn’t a straight doctor in a lab coat who squirmed at the mention of gay sex. Instead, it was Dr. Demetre Daskalakis, an out gay man who not only attends raves but posts shirtless selfies on social media to prove it. This was a messenger the community would listen to.

Gay and bisexual men had already written the playbook on activism and advocacy throughout the H.I.V./AIDS epidemic, resulting in more than $7 billion in federal funding for H.I.V. research, prevention, treatment and social services. Furious over the federal government’s initial response to mpox, they mobilized and organized, protesting at local Department of Health and Human Services offices and filing a complaint with the Massachusetts state attorney general over denial of mpox testing and treatment.

So while an early and frankly honest public health response could have blunted the outbreak, resulting in far fewer cases and far less suffering, the swift collective action of gay and bisexual men prevented catastrophe. If the broader American public had responded to the threat of Covid-19 the way gay and bisexual men responded to the threat of mpox, we might have seen fewer cases (there have been 100 million to date) and a lower death toll (1.1 million and counting). When the next infectious outbreak strikes (and surely it will), the public would be wise to channel gay and bisexual men: communicate openly without stigmatization, organize and insist on access to effective prevention, diagnosis and treatment.

There’s another important lesson about the gay community that health officials and journalists need to remember going forward: When it comes to emerging health threats — even ones that can spread sexually — gay men can handle the truth. You can give it to them straight.

Ina Park (@InaParkMD) is a professor of family and community medicine at the University of California, San Francisco, and the author of “Strange Bedfellows: Adventures in the Science, History and Surprising Secrets of S.T.D.s.” Dan Savage has been writing “Savage Love,” one of the most widely read sex advice columns in the country, for more than 30 years and is also the host of “Savage Lovecast.”

Thank you so much, wonderful article! Yes, the community listened, informed itself and reacted, some gay men might be susceptible to conspiracy theories and "fake news", but most gay men aren't that way! Imagine if this disease had reached straight men and women of the Bible Belt or other backward part of this country, I guarantee you the result would have been very different! 

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Health officials are warning of a potential resurgence of the disease in Chicago, which recorded 12 cases over the last two weeks compared to an average of about...

Nine out of the 12 confirmed cases were fully vaccinated. 😕 Not sure if they had the 1/5 dose from back in the fall.

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On 5/11/2023 at 10:02 PM, kingsley88 said:
70878947-0-image-a-17_1683834155156.jpg
WWW.DAILYMAIL.CO.UK

Health officials are warning of a potential resurgence of the disease in Chicago, which recorded 12 cases over the last two weeks compared to an average of about...

Nine out of the 12 confirmed cases were fully vaccinated. 😕 Not sure if they had the 1/5 dose from back in the fall.

This is a good reminder that vaccinations, like most things in life, are not always 100% effective.

Let's hope that of the nine who received their vaccinations, most all hopefully experienced reduced symptoms of their Monkeypox infection.

As for the reduced 1/5 dose allowed as an emergency declaration only, I made a personal choice to wait until full doses were offered in my hometown before getting the second dose of the vaccine to prevent Monkeypox.

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14 hours ago, nycman said:

And yet the monkeypox epidemic came to a screeching halt once mass vaccination was rolled out.

The"‘proof” is in the pudding. 

I agree and gave your post an agree but really:  The proof of the pudding is in the tasting  is the more accurate quote though your statement certainly is a common form.   

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17 hours ago, nycman said:

And yet the monkeypox epidemic came to a screeching halt once mass vaccination was rolled out.

The"‘proof” is in the pudding. 

Jesus Fuckin' Christ. Do you actually believe that because "B" happens after "A," that this is proof that A caused B??? Particularly ridiculous in the MPX situation. How does one argue with such an infantile thought process?

 

image.thumb.png.a751d6c4f1444769dfbcaa923125eb16.png

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image.png.75d191e59729b57ac912d9fe746096aa.png

image.thumb.png.2788124655c9fbb34a5a80b2c5a9e584.png

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Monkeypox cases also dropped when the media was instructed to stop using the name Monkeypox and call it something else.  Perhaps the name change is the reason for the Monkeypox decline?   (I'm joking, but using this to make a point that the decline might partially be due to the rollout of smallpox vaccinations, awareness of the disease, temporary abstinence among the affected population, change in the virus name, luck, or a little bit of all of the above).

Edited by Vegas_Millennial
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21 hours ago, nycman said:

And yet the monkeypox epidemic came to a screeching halt once mass vaccination was rolled out.

The"‘proof” is in the pudding. 

I agree, but folks also changed their behavior, I know young guys who stopped hooking up from June till September possibly avoiding catching the disease and spreading it.  Many clients stopped hiring too. Temporary abstinence as pointed by @Vegas_Millennial was also a deciding factor. 

Now thank God we're all vaccinated!

Edited by marylander1940
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7 hours ago, Unicorn said:

Jesus Fuckin' Christ. Do you actually believe that because "B" happens after "A," that this is proof that A caused B???

No, but I do know how to read my Journal articles….

I assume an article published in the New England Journal of Medicine is good enough for you?

https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa2215201

"The findings suggest that JYNNEOS vaccine was effective in preventing mpox disease".

 

Ostrich Avestruz GIF by Amnistía Internacional España

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11 hours ago, nycman said:

No, but I do know how to read my Journal articles….

I assume an article published in the New England Journal of Medicine is good enough for you?

https://www.nejm.org/doi/full/10.1056/NEJMoa2215201

"The findings suggest that JYNNEOS vaccine was effective in preventing mpox disease"...

 

Did you actually even bother to read the abstract of that article??? "...among whom the estimated adjusted vaccine effectiveness was 66.0% (95% confidence interval [CI], 47.4 to 78.1), and 146 case patients and 1000 control patients received one dose (partial vaccination), among whom the estimated adjusted vaccine effectiveness was 35.8% ...". That's piss-poor efficacy, and that's assuming one can count on the results of a case-control study (which one can't). Another possibility is that those who were vaccinated are also more cautious in others ways that are sometimes difficult to measure. This is why a case-control study would never be accepted as evidence of efficacy for ANY vaccine or medication. Case-control studies show only associations, not causation

You still think that this vaccine was enough to produce herd immunity??? Ridiculous! Neither the vaccine efficacy, if one can accept this study as the best-case scenario for the vaccine, nor the number of people vaccinated was anywhere near enough.

And I hope @mike carey didn't injure himself from laughing so hard at your post above...

iamzoie-gotdamnzo.gif

Edited by Unicorn
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5 hours ago, Unicorn said:

You still think that this vaccine was enough to produce herd immunity??? Ridiculous!.

While I agree with you that it’s unlikely that the vaccine was the sole cause, you’d be foolish to claim it wasn’t a significant factor in controlling the outbreak. 

If your unwilling to give the vaccine any credit, I’m eager to hear you analysis of what did stop the Monkeypox outbreak in it’s tracks?

Celebrate Adrian Holmes GIF by Hospital Show

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4 hours ago, nycman said:

...your unwilling to give the vaccine any credit...

 

If what you meant to say is "You're unwilling to give the vaccine any credit," then that is a complete falsehood. I never said that. Case-control studies usually overestimate an effect. For example, multiple case-control studies showed an association of postmenopausal estrogen use with LOWER risk of cardiovascular disease, and the association was for a long time (falsely) assumed to be causative. There was actually a physiological reason to believe that, since estrogens raise good cholesterol, and it's also known that the risk of cardiovascular disease rises sharply in women after menopause. When the randomized control trial was done, however, it showed that use of postmenopausal estrogens actually slightly INCREASED the risk of cardiovascular disease. (It's surmised that the reason estrogen use was associated with lower risk of cardiovascular disease may be that women on estrogens saw their health care providers more often)

Another more recent example of case-control studies providing misleading answers if one believes association=causation was the use of masking in preventing transmission of Covid-19. There was a strong association for reduced risk, but people who wear masks also probably socialize less, so that was the probable reason for the association. The randomized clinical trial showed little if any benefit from mask wearing.

Since the case-control study showed only an association with 66% fewer cases, one could logically surmise that the actual risk reduction is probably less than that, since those who got vaccinated are presumably more cautious health-wise in other ways. I personally received the first dose in September when the disease was relatively prevalent, and this was when it was first available to most men who have sex with men (prior to that, at least in Los Angeles, it was only available to MSM's getting treatment at STD clinics). I had a fairly unpleasant reaction, and when the time came for me to get my 2nd shot in October I noted that the disease was declining precipitously, so I opted not to get the 2nd shot. 

Why did the disease die out? Certainly, one cannot say for certain the vaccine had NO effect (although there is no real evidence the vaccine has any salutary effect). I doubt it was the major reason, though. Why did Ebola die out in places where it was endemic? Well, not because of any vaccine, since there's never been any. There are certain aspects of disease epidemics we don't understand, and the most honest thing we can say is to admit to this fact--and not claim to know something we don't know. 

Maybe @mike carey has more laughing to do now.

elmo-laughing.gif

Or maybe it'll be eye-rolling this time.

bbcan5-bbcan.gif

Edited by Unicorn
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8 hours ago, Unicorn said:

although there is no real evidence the vaccine has any salutary effect

Sigh….I see you didn’t care for the NEJM article.

How about we drop some CDC knowledge on your ass?

https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/72/wr/mm7220a3.htm#:~:text=In this real-world assessment,and 85.9% for full vaccination.

"In this study, adjusted VE (vaccine effectiveness) was 75% for 1 dose and 86% for 2 doses of JYNNEOS vaccine, indicating substantial protection against mpox, irrespective of route of administration or immunocompromise status."

"JYNNEOS is effective at reducing the risk for mpox"

giphy.gif

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8 hours ago, nycman said:

...

"JYNNEOS is effective at reducing the risk for mpox"

 

Sorry, I get it that you haven't been educated in the field of medical research, but the study referenced here is another case-control study. Case-control studies are certainly useful for giving ideas for actual clinical trials, but can never, ever show causality or efficacy. As I pointed out in my prior post, there have been lots times when case-control studies have shown an association, but when the clinical trials were done, causality was not borne out. It is, in fact, disturbing that the CDC misrepresents this as evidence of efficacy, because they definitely know better. It's simply impossible for a case-control study to show causality. This vaccine is NOT FDA-approved for MPOX, since the FDA does require proof of efficacy (and safety), and has never accepted case-control studies as evidence of efficacy for any vaccine or medication, ever (since a case-control study, by its design, cannot provide evidence of efficacy). 

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19 hours ago, nycman said:

Sigh….I see you didn’t care for the NEJM article.

How about we drop some CDC knowledge on your ass?

https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/72/wr/mm7220a3.htm#:~:text=In this real-world assessment,and 85.9% for full vaccination.

"In this study, adjusted VE (vaccine effectiveness) was 75% for 1 dose and 86% for 2 doses of JYNNEOS vaccine, indicating substantial protection against mpox, irrespective of route of administration or immunocompromise status."

"JYNNEOS is effective at reducing the risk for mpox"

giphy.gif

But lest we not forget that not enough of the younger population has been vaccinated to achieve herd immunity from Monkeypox.  An individual might have 86% immunity with the 2nd dose of the vaccine; but, put in an orgy with 5 others who have it, and statically that one immunized person is going to catch Monkeypox.

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7 hours ago, Vegas_Millennial said:

 

But lest we not forget that not enough of the younger population has been vaccinated to achieve herd immunity from Monkeypox.  An individual might have 86% immunity with the 2nd dose of the vaccine; but, put in an orgy with 5 others who have it, and statically that one immunized person is going to catch Monkeypox.

There is an uptick in MP cases now and 7 of the new patients are double vaccinated 

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36 minutes ago, NJF said:

There is an uptick in MP cases now and 7 of the new patients are double vaccinated 

That's not surprising.  Getting the vaccine then participating in sexual group activities when the herd is not immune is like washing your hands with hand sanitizer before reaching into a pail full of feces. 💩 Sorry,  I cannot find or quote a medical journal to substantiate my metaphor. 😉

I did get two doses of the full vaccine (subcutaneous injection) to do my part to prevent the spread of Monkeypox. 🐒 Notice I said prevent the spread, not eliminate the spread.

Edited by Vegas_Millennial
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On 5/18/2023 at 1:23 PM, Vegas_Millennial said:

This is a good reminder that vaccinations, like most things in life, are not always 100% effective.

Let's hope that of the nine who received their vaccinations, most all hopefully experienced reduced symptoms of their Monkeypox infection.

As for the reduced 1/5 dose allowed as an emergency declaration only, I made a personal choice to wait until full doses were offered in my hometown before getting the second dose of the vaccine to prevent Monkeypox.

Where you sexually active while waiting for the full dose to be available?

Nothing is 100% effective, but I'd rather be vaccinated against polio, measles, Covid-19, etc.

 

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11 hours ago, marylander1940 said:

Where you sexually active while waiting for the full dose to be available?

Nothing is 100% effective, but I'd rather be vaccinated against polio, measles, Covid-19, etc.

 

I was only sexually passive, or "pasivo" as they say in Puerto Vallarta, during that time. 😈

Edited by Vegas_Millennial
Correct spelling of Espanolish word
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